


The Boys Are Back In Town

by edgy_fluffball



Series: Tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not Going To Give More Away, Post-Award Night, We Got There Folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgy_fluffball/pseuds/edgy_fluffball
Summary: This can be set after any award show the boys are/were at.Ben can sense something is off. Getting Gwilym to open up is more of a test.





	The Boys Are Back In Town

Ben shut the door behind him. His fingers immediately came up to open the top button of his shirt, relieving the pressure he had felt on his throat for the last hours. Part of it had been the excitement and adrenaline pulsating through his veins but most of it was the unintelligible expression Gwilym had looked at him with ever since they had arrived at the after show party. His eyes had been fixated on him, nothing seemed to get to him, no matter who was trying to talk to him. Ben had tried himself but all his boyfriend had done was stare at him, no sound coming from his lips. It had aggravated him.

With their hotel room door safely closed behind them, Ben had only one goal. He strode over to where Gwilym sat on the edge of their bed, the fresh linen crumpled under his weight. He fiddled with the hem of his blazer. Despite that, nothing about his appearance was out of place. His hair was tidy enough to make Ben’s fingers itch, he wanted to run them through the soft strands and scratch over his boyfriend’s scalp, something he knew Gwilym liked. The bowtie around his neck invited him to loosen it and throw it over his shoulder, to be joined by the shirt keeping his body hidden from view, and the trousers that made his legs longer and his ass, Ben shuddered at the thought, rounder.

The only thing that kept him from immediately digging his nails into his shoulders was the expression on Gwilym’s face. His eyes were directed to the floor between his shoes. Ben had toed off his shoes as soon as he could, new, unworn shoes were uncomfortable, after all. Gwilym had opted to keep them on. Something ghosted over his face, a dash of sadness and regret.

Ben steered clear of him, hanging up his blazer before returning to the foot of the bed. He knelt down, crumpling up the well-ironed trousers, dusting them with a thin layer of carpet fluff by doing so.

‘What’s the matter with you tonight?’ He tried to sound comforting, keep his voice low, despite the roughness that seemed to be ever-present, ‘You seemed a little down and now you fell silent entirely.’

Gwilym did not react. No muscle twitched, no eye flickered and he certainly did not look up or move, indicating his attention was with Ben. He sniffed, cleared his throat, placed a hand on Gwilym’s knee, squeezed it softly.

‘You can talk to me, you know? That’s what people do. Talk, if they are not happy, if something’s wrong. Can you tell me what was going on with you tonight? Did something upset you?’

A slow, quivering exhale was all he got in response. Gwilym shivered under his touch but Ben was near certain that is was not the good kind of shaking.

‘Talk to me, baby, I want to make you feel better,’ he was pleading, grasping for straws, anything that would get Gwilym to react to him in any way without getting angry. He could not do that to them, ‘I hate to see you like this without having the slightest idea what is going on with you. Tell me what I can do, baby.’

He gave in to the urge and cupped his face with one hand, stroking soft patterns into the skin. Gwilym leant into it, rested in his palm for a moment and Ben felt a smile form on his lips. His boyfriend was warming up to him again.

Then, he saw the tiny movement. He almost missed it, inconspicuous and silent as it was. And yet, when he saw it, realising what exactly he was looking at, his heart shattered into pieces. He felt his fingers tremble, his throat close up and his knees buckle in the attempt to keep him upright, even though his world turned lopsided and tilted before his eyes.

A tear slipped from Gwilym’s eye, along the dip of his nose, down the curve of his cheek and, eventually, along the bow of his lip, disappearing at the corner of his mouth with a last twinkle before sinking into the valley that made up his lips. Ben followed it with his eyes, trying to understand what he witnessed and how it came to be.

‘Gwil, baby, you are scaring me,’ he whispered, thumb attempting to wipe the salt off his cheek but shaking too much to complete the task, ‘what’s wrong, I want to help you! Please, sweetheart, talk to me!’

He thought he would be alright to see Gwilym cry, break down, scream something at him that he could resolve; maybe induced by one drink too much or the rumours spread through press and media. He thought he could deal with a sobbing Gwilym, be the stronghold to help him, the rock he could cling to.

But Gwilym did not sob, he did not break down, he did not shout and was far from crying after the single tear had escaped him. Instead, he put on a mask, a show, a pretence that Ben had to see through immediately. Half a year was enough for him to be able to read his boyfriend like a book.

He composed himself, prepared to fight a battle he had to be certain to win. His cheek, hot against Ben’s palm, twitched as he lifted his head, meeting his gaze out of clear eyes. When he opened his mouth, Ben could not refrain from following the way his lips parted, letting out a shaky breath.

Gwilym straightened his back, allowing Ben’s empty hand to sink to his knee but not inducing another touch between them. Ben tried not to feel hurt by being deprived this possibility but settled on an encouraging look and a comforting smile instead of demands and accusations.

‘I am sorry,’ Gwilym’s voice shook, trembling with the burden of words yet unspoken, ‘I am so sorry, Ben, because you deserve better than this, a hotel room and radio silence.’

Ben squeezed his head, slowly shaking his head. Gwilym’s insecurities, as seldom as they appeared, were a fiend not to meddle with. All he did, all he could do was comforting Gwilym through these episodes and afterwards when he needed the warmth of a human touch, the reassurance that he was worth whatever Ben gave to him and did not need to remind himself of things speaking against his happiness.

For a single second, Ben wished to see his smile, the blindingly brilliant, contagious smile that he sported on the red carpets and in the privacy of their London flats whenever they got together. He missed it like an old friend who scarcely made an appearance, too occupied with his own trials to see his support being required elsewhere.

‘We had a good run,’ Gwilym’s voice grew stronger with every word, ringing in Ben’s ears as if they had reached the volume of a foghorn, ‘but we can’t keep this up forever. We know that, both of us. It was always going to end like this, wasn’t it? One of us was going to break or leave and I decided to be the one leaving before it gets too hard.’

Ben shook his head, ringing sound bouncing back from the walls, ‘What are you talking about, we are fine. There’s nothing wrong with us or our being together. I am stronger with you and you have come so far. You are helping me so much and I cannot imagine what I’d be like without you.’

‘We are far from fine,’ Gwilym stood, abrupt motion brushing Ben’s hand off his knee. He took a few paces, away from Ben, turning his back on him, ‘we aren’t fine, we are done. The last weeks have been a constant masquerade, smearing mortar in opening cracks on a breaking bridge. I am walking away before we both fall. You…’

He broke off, inhaling deeply. Ben heard the rattle in his lungs, knew how hard it was for him to breathe, take in enough air to keep himself upright.

‘You will be fine, Ben. You have Joe.’

There it was. Ben felt the icy dagger being plunged deep into his guts and twisted a good few times before the ghost of a future never to come took a step back and left him bleeding. He gasped for air, unable to inhale, left by everything he held dear.

‘Joe’ll always be there for you. He’ll look after you and I will be forgotten before long. We can’t keep pretending that it is going to work out otherwise. You are perfect for him. The fans love you,’ a chuckle interrupted Gwilym’s speech, interrupted what sounded like a justification, an explanation to make it easier for both of them, ‘I’m sure Joe won’t mind my absence. He fits you better, everyone can see it. When you enter a room together, no one can deny it. It’s a match made in heaven and you are the archangel. They see you and Joe and I am there, at the edge, falling from a heaven that was never mine to possess and inhabit. I’m going back home, you’ll be fine.’

Steps on soft carpet.

He had not taken off his shoes.

‘You will be alright once I’m gone. Won’t have to concern yourself with all my demons anymore.’

He had not taken off the bowtie.

‘Tell Frankie to look after you. And Joe. He’ll do it.’

He looked ready to go out.

‘I’m sorry.’

He was gone.

The bedsheets were soft against his skin, too soft. Ben slid off the bed, curled up on the carpet, clawed at his arms under the shirt, not caring about rental, returns and contracts, all but ripping it to pieces in the futile attempt to get rid of the restrictions that made him feel like choking, like drowning. He felt his legs tremble and shake violently, his fingertips hurt and his lips rupture under the pressure of the wild, wet sobs that broke from them.

He lay naked, surrounded by the sharp shards and splinters of his shattered heart, bleeding from the wound the words had torn in his skin. In his hand, he held the remains of what had once been warm and comforting, the weakly throbbing remnants of a heart he had freely given to find a home in another person.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr as edgy-fluffball and drop me a request!


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